


Garbage Day

by Incessant_Darkness



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Gen, Heist AU, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incessant_Darkness/pseuds/Incessant_Darkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Miracles were the most prolific team of art thieves to ever have existed. This is the story of their last heist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with a friend for the fun of it. The fic contains pairings but the relationships are not central to the actual fic. This chapter contains AoKise. Also, everything is a little bit cheesy. So don't take it too seriously and enjoy!

**Prologue**

“That hurts… would you stop, I can’t--”

“Stop being a whiny little brat and just--”

“But Aominecchi, there’s a gearstick jabbing into my stomach.”

“Yeah, alright alright,” Aomine grabbed Kise and flipped him onto his back against the passenger seat and then thrust right back into him. Kise’s eyes shimmered a little with the pain, his hands absently pawing the compactor controls.

"Why does it smell like garbage…"

Aomine’s hand pushed along the inside of Kise’s thigh, forcing his leg up against his chest as he sniffed in distaste at the smell of rotting waste that wafted in. “Cause you fucked with the controls idiot.” Aomine barked, grabbing Kise’s hands and pinning them above his head where they could do no harm.

Kise mewled slightly at the discomfort of being caught between the vibrating machinery beneath his seat and Aomine's increasing pace between his legs. The smell of sweat and breathless exertion filled the cramped cabin as Aomine ground Kise further and further into the surprisingly-plush upholstery.

"Right there...I--"

A sharp rapping on the glass interrupted the moment.

“Excuse me gentlemen, if you’re quite finished.”

“Actually--” Aomine had been about to say that he still needed a minute a or so when the door was thrown open and a hand yanked him out by the collar of his jumpsuit.

"When the lady says stop you fucking stop."

"Now now Captain Hyuuga, there's no need for violence."

“Sorry, Riko."

“That's Inspector Riko to you. Now, Aomine Daiki, you are under arrest for… well a great many things. But we can discuss that more leisurely back at the station.” Riko swept past Aomine, and shone her flashlight into the cab of the truck. “Kise Ryota, if you would be so kind as to come out with your pants on and your hands where I can see them.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hold it, back up a bit… why the hell were you caught fucking in a stolen garbage truck to begin with?”

“Ah well, you asked me what I was in here for…but I suppose the real story begins much earlier than all that.” Kise ran a hand through his hair with a sigh of resignation, “Have you heard of the Miracles?”

“Yeah, they’re fucking famous… Wait, are you saying you know them? And what have they got to do with your exhibitionism?”

"Know them? I almost had the best fuck of my life in the front seat of a garbage truck with one of them. I'm basically an honorary Miracle."

"You're full of shit man."

"Let me start from the beginning…Every robbery starts with a plan, and every group starts with a leader. I was introduced to the Miracle's leader, The Emperor, about four months ago in Paris…"

|~||~|

“Kise Ryota? Your lawyer is here.”

“But I didn’t--”

“Not another word Ryota.” The man that walked in was not unfamiliar but it took Kise a moment to place him, though he couldn’t quite recall a name. Kise had met him before on more than one occasion at the high society parties he often frequented.

“Um…” Kise wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but when Akashi winked at him he shut his mouth.

“I’d like to have a word with my client alone please.” Akashi spoke as if it was offensive to him that the guard hadn’t already anticipated his need and vacated the premises. It worked surprisingly well, and a moment later he was seated across a non-descript metal table from Akashi who, instead of speaking, folded his hands under his chin and simply watched him.

"You're...not really a lawyer are you."

"No. No I'm not. But you don't need a lawyer. You need a fixer." Kise stared back across the table puzzled for a few moments before it hit him

"You mean to say…"

"Yes, I can make all of this go away."

“But… I didn’t even do it… surely…”

“Surely,” Akashi interrupted, “You don’t want to test your luck in the French Prison system with such a pretty face.”

"I'm telling you I didn't do it."

“Well it’s a good thing that movie of yours wasn’t released, because your performance isn’t very convincing at all.” Akashi leaned back in his seat, his hands sliding off the table. “You don’t have the money to pay back the investors, I’ve checked, and you certainly don’t have a defense that will save your tender behind, so I would suggest you take the deal I’m offering you.”

“And what deal is that?”

“Like I said, I can make all of this go away."

"What's in it for you though?"

"I just need you to do a little job for me.”

“Job? What kind of job?”

“Well, let’s just say it’s better than rotting in jail.”

* * * 

The studio--because that’s what it was in spite of the vaulted ceiling, spontaneous clusters of monitors and what appeared to be the contents of an entire antique store--was lit with spotlights, one of which was beating down on the neck of a man who was hunched over a canvas, a set of ridiculous telescopic goggles strapped to his eyes, a paintbrush held precariously between his teeth.

Kise jumped when Akashi’s voice cut through the absolute stillness.

"Why don't you take a seat and make yourself comfortable?"

Kise started, afraid that the sudden interruption would disrupt the cautious work of the man, but Akashi didn’t appear to care as he swept into the room. “Shintaro, a moment.” Before Kise could argue he was left alone in the studio, which in fact did not have a seat but for the one just vacated by the lean young man that Akashi had unceremoniously dragged from the room.  

After a few minutes of standing still, Kise grew restless and began to wander about, peeking beneath sheets at canvases below, shocked when he realised that some very famous paintings were tucked away beneath the innocuous shrouds. He discovered about half a dozen he recognized and countless more that were likely just as famous but he couldn’t place for the life of him. His thoughts drifted briefly to the one art curator he’d shagged that one time...or was it two times...she hadn't been all that interesting all things considered.

Just then the lean man that Akashi had whisked away staggered back into the studio looking decidedly more harried, but undeniably pleased as well. The goggles that he’d been wearing now sat askew against his forehead, the telescopic lenses pointing in opposite directions, his hair was ruffled like a peacock’s tail feathers, and his shirt was untucked from pants that were buttoned but not zipped.

“Midorima Shintaro.” The man offered a lean, calloused hand. “Kise Ryota, I presume?” Midorima asked, clearing his throat a few times before managing to get the words out.

Kise nodded and took the offered hand. Midorima shook Kise’s hand absently as if he’d forgotten that he’d been the one to initiate the gesture and his shirt lifted just enough for Kise to glimpse a livid bite-mark against the sharp edge of his hip. “Akashi…”

“Has other business to attend to.” Midorima replied sounding severely put upon, as though he wasn’t convinced that he himself didn’t have better things to do. “I’m expected to show you to your quarters and get you settled.” Midorima frowned and glanced to his array of monitors which displayed a mishmash set of images that appeared to be various sizes of a single image.

“So...uh… what do you do, for Akashi?” Kise asked, hesitant. Akashi had been very tight-lipped indeed on the the plane ride home despite Kise’s persistent questioning, and he was starting to grow nervous of what sort of devil’s bargain he had entered into.

“I paint. For myself, not for Akashi, it just so happens he has use for my paintings.” Midorima pulled his goggles from his head and tossed them aside, replacing them with a pair of glasses that he adjusted surreptitiously as he lead Kise from the studio. “Or rather it would be more accurate to say that I fix paintings.”

“Fix?”

Midorima smiled then, a private, smug expression that Kise hadn’t expected. “Yes, fix.” But he didn’t elaborate any further. Midorima was gruff and impatient in his tour, and Kise was vaguely certain he had only seen a fraction of the sprawling manor that evidently housed the studio Midorima worked in, and rather quickly he was led to a corner room at the west end of the building.

“This is your room.” Midorima frowned as he threw open the door, only then seeming to realise his state of undress. He tucked his shirt into his pants and ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it into place with what was a very practiced motion. “Feel free to do… whatever it is you do.”

* * *

"I'm going to die," Kise whined to a particularly impressive suit of armour that loomed over him from a pedestal. His stomach growled in a grumpy chorus. It had been four hours since Midorima had abandoned him, or perhaps more, in all his time of wandering about Kise had not managed to run across anything even remotely resembling a clock, though he _had_ managed to get himself thoroughly lost.

Another round of hunger pangs wracked through his body. Bent almost-double Kise staggered around a corner...and died. Or rather there was no other explanation for it, because his face came to rest in the most incredible pillowy-- _SLAP._

*

"Are you okay?" Kise was vaguely aware of somebody standing over him.

"Just leave him. He's probably dead."

“Not dead.” Kise mumbled. His stomach growled again. “But I will be if…” Kise blinked his eyes open to the sight of a looming, curved shadow that resolved itself into...a tuft of blue hair and a very, very shiny forehead. “Hello beautiful.”

“Wow, Satsuki, I think you did a real number on him..” Aomine scratched the back of his head idly and leaned back, reaching for the plate of sandwiches that had been set on Kise's stone-cold unconscious stomach. The makeshift cooler table stirred just a half moment after he snatched the last half-sandwich with unnaturally-quick reflexes. He took a quick bite and stared at the painfully thin blond laying on the kitchen floor.

Before he knew what he was doing, Kise had a bony wrist in one hand, his grip as tight as death. Shaking his head--a move that felt as though it was rattling his brain uncomfortably inside his skull--Kise gingerly pulled himself up into a sitting position and found himself face to face with one half of a corned beef sandwich clasped in a tan brown hand.

“Hi, my name is Satsuki, sorry about… knocking you out.” The beautiful young woman who had identified herself as Momoi blushed a fetching shade of pink as she leaned over Kise from just behind a larger, distinctly male body. The pink in her cheeks matching her hair momentarily before she recovered herself and continued. “And this is Daiki.”

"I've never eaten a Daiki Sandwich before." Kise commented as he happily bit into the half-sandwich in front of him. "It tastes like corned beef."

Three seconds, and eight bites into the sandwich, he noticed the other man glaring at him with the intensity of an angry rhino.

“Excuse me… your fingers are…” Kise maneuvered deftly around Aomine's grip and swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, “in my way.”

Momoi laughed, the sound high and tinkling and enough to draw the attention of both men in the room. When two sets of intense eyes turned in her direction Momoi raised her hands in mock surrender. “Boys.” She muttered under her breath and then shrugged towards the fridge. “You know…there are more sandwiches in the refrigerator.”

*

"So you're telling me you don't _actually_ work for Akashi?" Kise managed to mostly enunciate his question amidst mouthfuls of sandwich.

"I'm more like a consultant really," Momoi started to explain for what was probably the third or fourth time, "I designed the original security system core, but the actual implementation was done by Akashi himself. Mostly I just bring Daiki his lunches."

"Satsuki apparently waltzed in here one day, right past the security system. Nobody even saw her on any of the cameras.” Aomine intoned around a mouthful of sandwich. It was the fifth one Kise had seen him scarf down, and even as ravenous as he’d been, Kise couldn’t understand how any one person could put away so much food.

“So then, what do _you_ do for Akashi?” Kise asked, staring at Aomine with proper attention for the first time since coming to consciousness. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine a person as rough around the edges as Aomine getting on well with the likes of Akashi.

A low grumble from Aomine was all the response Kise got. It’s meaning escaped all human understanding, but it brought a smile to Momoi’s lips so he looked expectantly at her.

“Daiki is the chauffeur.” Momoi replied in a sing-song voice, playfully wiping an errant splash of mustard from Aomine's cheek.

"Wait he's what?" Kise tripped over his own tongue, "Don't you have to be...you know...classy and suave or something to be a chauffeur?"

"Daiki drives..really fast."

Kise stared dumbfounded between Momoi and Aomine, and when it became apparent that Aomine was too busy putting away the last half sandwich to answer anything resembling a question, he turned his attention back to Momoi. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you know, Akashi really only pays attention to the best of the best. Daiki…”

Having finished his sandwich with one last hard swallow Aomine finally spoke up. “I smoked the boss' old driver in a street race. He told me that he didn’t like losers, and that as the winner I could drive his Benz if I joined up. It wasn’t like I was ever gonna end up behind the wheel of such a posh car my lifetime. I figured what the hell, it couldn’t hurt right?” Aomine grinned roguishly and Kise pushed away the thought that such a careless expression actually made Aomine’s face a bit less infuriating.

"Oh stop making it sound so heroic. Daiki didn’t last 30 minutes in that car before he crashed it." She batted her... _why was she batting her eyelashes_... _come to think of it, why was Aomine batting his eyelashes?!_ "...and that's why he still works for him now. To this day I think his record is only 4 hours behind the wheel."

Before Kise could ask any one of the half dozen questions that were clamouring in his mind, they were interrupted by just about the last person Kise wanted to see right then.

"So _this_ is where you were hiding." Midorima turned his nose up ever so slightly as if offended by the very room he found himself in, "if you are quite finished frolicking in the servants quarters, Akashi wishes to see you Mr. Kise. You have a job to do."


End file.
